Forever Crimson

Chapter 1

IT NEVER BODES WELL for Scarlet when she's summoned to the Principal's office.

Once she was tasked to scrape off gum from under hundreds of desks when she was a freshman. The next year she cleaned the toilets. (She never wished that experience on anyone). In her junior year, she was ordered to repaint the gym, and she learned that Principal Padilla did not like mistakes on the walls of his school, so she had to keep fixing and fixing until he was satisfied.

Now in her senior year, she had no idea what awaited her.

After being cursed with all those unnecessary tasks, she wasn't sure what else they could come up with to punish her.

Scarlet rolled her eyes. She sounded like a troublemaker, and while she wasn't interested in clearing her name, most of her "trouble" came from always being late to school in the mornings.

Not like she could control such a thing, but schools liked order, and her entire existence was keen on anything but.

So there she was, walking into the Principal's office instead of going home. Scarlet squinted at the bright lights, and nodded her head at the tired secretary. She swallowed a laugh as she saw her clicking out of a word document and switching to a spreadsheet that seemed more official than the prose-like writing the screen contained moments before.

Her fingers pried her phone off of her back pocket, and she frowned at the time. She should have been home by then, tending to her mother. Instead she was at the musty office wondering what type of Zeus-like punishment awaited her for simply getting late to class.

Same old, same old.

"Scarlet Turner," Principal Padilla said as he saw her figure make it to the doorway. "Glad you're here. Come on in."

She locked her phone, playing with her weight as Ms. Stanford appeared from the shadows of the office, sneer on her face.

Before she could ask, Principal Padilla motioned for her to sit in front of his oak desk, so she did. Her eyes traveled towards her English teacher, but no one thought to explain her presence, though she formed a solid hypothesis.

"Ms. Turner, do you know why you're here?" Principal Padilla started.

She found it difficult not to roll her eyes. They'd been re-doing that meeting since the beginning of her high school career, and now, a semester away from graduating, she figured Principal Padilla would know how the scene usually played out.

"Let me guess," Scarlet turned to her English teacher. "It has to do with the fact that I never get to your first period on time."

"Oh, so she's self-aware," Ms. Stanford commented.

A burning sensation traveled down her chest, but she managed to restrain herself from doing or saying something she would regret.

"Life isn't in my control, Ms. Stanford," Scarlet said.

"That is still no excuse for your tardiness every day. Surely you should learn time management skills; an important skill to have for the rest of your life." Her teacher looked out of the office window, crossing her legs as she leaned back against the wall.

Her hair was messier than Scarlet remembered. She came in every morning dressed to perfection, not a hair out of place nor a wrinkle on the fabric of her clothes in sight. But after-school hours did not do her well. Her baby hairs defied gravity, her knee-length skirt was wrinkled and worn out, and her makeup smeared around the edges of her hazel eyes.

That was not the same teacher she met when she was late every morning.

"Scarlet," Principal Padilla interrupted. "You're not a troubled student. You have good grades, you do your work, but this tardiness can affect you. We've been trying to tell you for years now how this could be damaging, but you still don't listen."